


Homecoming

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, and so does mer, i am always and forever merintrash, if not there should be, is there a name for merida and granny's brotp?, mac does a fair bit of intense staring, merintosh, smooooochin', the kiss i wrote in this might be one of my favorites ever, there is some palpable longing in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: Stranded in the Land Without Magic, missing those who mean the most to her, Merida finds a good friend in an unlikely place.She finally returns home to Dunbroch, unsure how long she's been gone and what state her kingdom might be in - but while many things may yet be uncertain, the heart of a certain clan lord is not.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as prompt fulfillment for tumblr user for-the-first-time-inforever and posted on May 30, 2016. Original author's note as follows:
> 
> A/N: Okay, so, wow…this got out of control. This was supposed to be a simple, brief, drabble to the prompt “wonderstruck,” and instead it turned into a nearly 4,100 word beast that refused to cooperate and play nice with me. I’m not entirely sure the two halves of this (the Granny half and the Mac half, that is) really connect as well as I’d hoped, but overall, I’m pretty pleased with how it all turned out. I hope you all enjoy over 4K of Merintosh featuring a little Merida and Granny brotp. Set near the beginning of 5x22 – Only You – and diverging from the point where Merida and the other EF folks go back through Zelena’s portal.

Merida stared morosely at the meal laid out in front of her. Not having much of an appetite at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to eat any of it, instead she aimlessly drew nonsensical patterns in her beef stew as she pushed it around the bowl with her spoon.

“Y’know, if you don’t at least  _try_  it, I’m going to take it personally,” a gruff, yet amused, voice piped up from somewhere in front of her. Merida looked up from her untouched – and rapidly cooling – lunch, directly into the face of the restaurant’s proprietor. Sure enough, the older woman’s expression was stern, but her eyes crinkled around the edges and Merida thought she glimpsed a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Yer very kind, Mistress Lucas, and I’m sure it’s good, but I –” she began only for the older woman to cut her off with a huff.

“Good?! It’s delicious! And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times – call me Granny,” she said. “And eat that stew before it gets stone cold. Got to keep up your strength now, missy.”

A sarcastic retort was on the tip of Merida’s tongue. She wanted to ask what miraculous thing she should be keeping her strength up  _for_ , since most of the town’s leaders had gone on a rescue mission – to the Underworld, of all places – several weeks ago and with them gone, there wasn’t anyone left here who was capable of the level of magic necessary for sending her back home.

 _And it’s not like Mac…not like **anyone**  from there’s comin’ fer me_, she thought bitterly, refusing to admit – even to herself – that it was specifically the lack of a rescue attempt from the lanky clan lord that stung more than the fact that no one from Dunbroch had come at all. Instead, she swallowed all of this down and simply nodded at Granny. She was honestly touched that the woman cared so much. One of the few good things that had come of being stuck in this realm was the odd sort of friendship she’d struck up with the diner’s proprietor.

Merida had been staying in one of the rooms in the attached inn for the past several days – for the cost of just a few of the gold pieces she’d thankfully tucked into a pouch on her belt before leaving Dunbroch. During her residence in the inn, she and the older woman had bonded a bit – over their bows, if nothing else. Despite wielding a crossbow rather than a full one, the older woman was a crack shot and she and Merida had passed a few happy afternoons in target practice and conversation.  _And it’s been a far sight more enjoyable than keeping watch on that vile, foolish king – even if it **is**  good to see him behind bars where he belongs…and fairly entertaining to hear him rail about the “injustices” that’ve been wreaked upon him._

Lost in her thoughts, Merida failed to realize that she still hadn’t taken a bite of her lunch until Granny walked by her again, coughing pointedly as she passed. Flashing a grin at the other woman, Merida resolved to put her troubled thoughts aside for the time being and finally dug into her stew. Thankfully, it was still warm enough that it didn’t need to be reheated.

_And Granny’s right – it **is**  delicious._

-/-

Another week sped past in much the same fashion as the ones that had gone before it, and then Snow White suddenly reappeared all on her own, the end of her family’s mission in the Underworld still not in sight and without any answers for Merida’s problems either. A few days after that, everything devolved into total chaos – the rest of the traveling party returned from Hades’ realm, minus one pirate but with the unexpected addition of the sodding Lord of the Dead himself. On top of that, earlier on the day of their return, Arthur had managed to escape from the station – Merida was still kicking herself for choosing Sleepy of all people to sit watch over the deposed king. She should have known better.

But if  _those_  events had seemed chaotic, they paled in comparison to the absolute whirlwind that followed. Robin Hood dead, Hades himself dead, Hook miraculously returned –  _by bloody Zeus himself, apparently_  – and Rumple-sodding-stilskin mucking about with all of the town’s magic and that damned Olympian crystal. It was enough to make Merida’s head spin, and when the Savior’s lad took off with his lassie and the crystal in some well-meant but deeply misguided attempt to destroy magic entirely, Merida had had enough.

She could hardly believe that all of the people who wanted to return to their lands were dependent on Zelena – Merida still clung to the distrust she had of the other woman, which had been born when the witch had been assisting Arthur’s attacks on Dunbroch. Still, if it were the only way for her to get home to her people before all hope of ever doing so was lost, she was damn well going to take it. Truly, there was only one person she was going to miss, and as they all gathered at the center of town and Zelena swished a gnarled-looking magic wand through the air in a slightly demented arc, Merida looked over to where Granny stood cradling the witch in question’s newly-named wee one.

She caught the older woman’s gaze and smiled at her, a sudden thought striking her. She’d been headed for the portal Zelena had conjured, but diverted her course at the last moment, striding over to Granny and nodding at the child. “Make sure ye teach the wee lassie her way around a bow when she’s old enough,” she said, glancing up at the other woman. “It’s in her blood – no doubt she’d be a natural.”

“I’ll do my best. No doubt she’ll need it in this crazy town,” Granny replied, before reaching out her free arm and sweeping Merida into a firm hug. “Now, get yourself back to your people, Missy, and try to stay out of trouble.”

Merida pulled back, murmuring an earnest thank you to the older woman before turning and heading back towards the portal, glancing back over her shoulder and grinning as she called out. “I make no promises, Granny!!” Merida thought she heard the older woman laugh at that, but couldn’t be sure as her attention was now on the glowing portal before her.

Facing the magical doorway, she watched the viscous mass within it swirl and loop back in on itself for a moment before taking a deep breath and moving closer. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself and stepped through.

-/-

The portal’s magic proved to be stronger than Merida had assumed, for when she’d stepped through the doorway in Storybrooke a line of other people had been hot on her heels, but when she emerged on the other side, she was utterly alone. She recognized the clearing where she was standing, it was on a hillside only a short way into the forest on the south side of the castle – in fact, she could see the highest turrets, just peeking over the top of the treeline and silhouetted against the darkening twilight sky. It had long been one of her favorite places to go when she wanted to be alone to think. She wondered if the portal’s magic had tapped into her memories and emotions to figure out where to send her.

_Huh. I hope this means that it sent the others directly back to their homes as well. I can only hope it did._

She resolved to send messengers to Camelot and Sherwood Forest the next day, just to make sure that everyone had made it back home safely, and began to walk slowly towards the castle. Part of her wanted to run all the way there, but she forced herself to keep her stride measured. She was somewhat unsure of what she’d find when she arrived – she’d been gone for months, and even though the clans had sworn their fealty before the curse had taken her to the Land Without Magic, she’d disappeared without a trace. She’d only told a few of her most trusted advisors – MacIntosh included – that she’d been headed to Camelot to try to figure out the kingdom’s weaknesses as part of her quest for revenge on Arthur, and then she’d simply never returned. She wasn’t sure what they would have done in her absence, but she was about to find out as the castle’s front gates loomed ahead of her.

Night had fully fallen by the time she reached the castle, and she decided at the last moment that she didn’t want to draw a lot of attention from the guards that were sure to be posted at the main entrance. Instead, she skirted along the wall away from the main gates, slipping inside a small door she knew led to the inner courtyard via a more indirect passageway. When she emerged from the darkened corridor into the wide, cobblestoned area she was somewhat surprised to find it almost entirely deserted. At this time of early evening, in addition to the sentries there would usually still be plenty of men from all the clans milling about – talking, sparring, drinking, repairing their armor, and completing other such tasks. But the torches ringing the walls revealed that, aside from a small number of sentries, the courtyard only held three people.

Three very familiar people.

MacIntosh’s taller frame towered over the smaller figures of Dingwall and Macguffin. The three were deep in a heated conversation – Mac pacing back and forth in agitation – and didn’t take notice of her approach. As she drew nearer she was able to make out the thread of what they were saying.

“We’re doin’ everythin’ we can, Mac – and ye  _know_  it.” Dingwall said. “Scoutin’ parties sent to Camelot turned up nothin’, not even  _their_ people, and–”

“Double patrols have got all our men stretched thin,” Macguffin cut in.  _Well, that explains where everyone else is_ , Merida mused. She shook herself out of her thoughts and focused again on what Macguffin was saying. “Ye know we canna keep this up forever, Mac. At some point we’re goin’ t’have t’accept that she’s no comin’ back.”

MacIntosh stopped pacing at that and stood stock still. Merida couldn’t see his face from where she was standing, partly obscured by a training dummy propped against the courtyard wall, but from way that Macguffin gulped and seemed to shrink into himself, she could guess that Mac’s expression must be thunderous.

“If we weren’t friends, Guff, I’d have already challenged ye,” she heard Mac grind out. “As ‘tis, I never want t’hear you say anything like that again. Understood?”

In the silence that followed, Merida saw Macguffin nod furiously. She was about to step forward and make her presence known when MacIntosh continued. “Ding, what was that ye were sayin’ about the scouts that went to Camelot? They didn’t find  _anyone_  there?”

Dingwall shook his head. “Not really, Mac. There were a handful of people in some of the places furthest off from the castle, but they hadn’t seen her, and everyone from the closer villages and castle itself had just disappeared. No sign of our queen,  _or_  their king.”

At that, Merida finally came back to herself and spurred herself into motion, stepping out from behind the dummy and closing the distance between it and the three men. “Arthur is dead,” she said firmly, causing all three of them to whip around nearly simultaneously.

Macguffin and Dingwall reflexively knelt, bowing their heads in deference, but Mac simply stood gaping at her with a wonderstruck expression on his face. They were still as statues, staring at each other for the space of a few heartbeats while her pulse pounded in her ears. She felt her face flush the longer he stared at her and was thankful when he finally pulled his gaze away from hers and dropped to his knee and bowed his head as well.

She stepped closer and gestured for them all to rise. “Oh get up, you lot. No need to stand on ceremony right now. I’m too glad t’be home,” she said, relief, and a twinge of amusement, coloring her voice.

As the three clan leaders rose, Mac’s eyes locked on hers again and her breath fairly whooshed out of her lungs at the intensity of his gaze. “Mer…how…” he began, his voice trailing off before he swallowed hard and seemed to pull himself together. “How did ye find yer way home, milady?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, the weariness of the past several months catching up to her all at once, overwhelming whatever it was that had sparked between her and Mac just then. “One better told over a good meal and cup of ale,” she smiled tiredly at him, “or three.”

-/-

A short while later, after Elinor had been summoned and had fussed over Merida to her heart’s content, and they – along with the three clan lords – had sat down to a quiet and informal dinner at a table in the corner of the castle’s great hall, Merida took a deep breath and began to tell the story of how she’d spent the past several months.

Though she was tempted to skip some of the harsher, more difficult moments for her mother’s benefit, she forced herself to give an accurate recounting of Arthur’s death and everything else that had happened to her since she’d set off for Camelot with only Angus for company. Thinking of her faithful horse reminded her that he hadn’t come through the portal to Storybrooke with her. When she asked where he was, it was Dingwall that answered her.

“He came back to the castle a day or so after ye disappeared, milady, still saddled but riderless,” here Dingwall glanced furtively at MacIntosh, who hadn’t eaten much – or spoken at all – since they’d sat down at the table. Dingwall’s gaze shifted back to Merida and he continued. “That was when we knew somethin’ was wrong and we started lookin’ fer ye.”

She listened as her mother, Dingwall, and Macguffin continued to fill her in on everything that had gone on in Dunbroch while she’d been away, bringing her up to speed on castle life as well as their concerted efforts to find her and, when she didn’t appear to be anywhere in the realm, to find a way to bring her home. Throughout it all, Mac sat silently at the end of the table, drinking his way through the better parts of two tankards of ale and watching her with a burning gaze that she once would have found disconcerting. Now, it only caused a warmth to bloom in the pit of her stomach and spread outwards until she was sure her cheeks were continuously flushed.

As the meal wound to its conclusion, Elinor drew herself up and circled round the table to Merida, who rose and let herself be folded into her mother’s embrace. Elinor pressed a kiss to Merida’s brow, murmuring, “I’m so glad you’re home, my girl. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” she trailed off, and Merida simply hugged her mother more tightly, understanding the unspoken end of the sentence and not wanting to imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t come back either. “Ah, well, goodnight, my girl,” her mother pulled back, wiping surreptitiously at her eyes. “Make sure you get some good rest, aye? I’ll wait till the mornin’ to tell your brothers that you’re back, or else ye’ll never get any sleep.”

“Alright, Mum. Goodnight.” Merida murmured, sitting back down at the table as her mother slipped away down the corridor towards her rooms. She turned back to the clan lords, only to find that Dingwall and Macguffin had risen as well. They bid her a quiet goodnight, promising to send word in the morning to Camelot and Sherwood Forest to ensure that the others who had been pulled into the Land Without Magic along with Merida had also returned safely to their lands. They also confirmed that they would pull back the extra patrols and spread the word of her return among the clans. She thanked them gratefully, and then they were gone.

That left her and Mac alone with the tension that had been simmering between them ever since she stepped into sight in the courtyard.  _Hell, if you’re bein’ honest wi’yourself, it’s been like this since before you rode out for Camelot…maybe even longer than that._

She was just about to open her mouth to say something to him – though, in truth, she hadn’t really figured out  _what_  – when he finished the ale he’d been drinking, set down his tankard hard enough that it thunked dully on the table, and pushed himself roughly up to standing. He glanced at her briefly, seemingly incapable of focusing directly on her now that they were the only two in the room, and ducked his head in a cursory bow. “If that’s all, milady, I’ll leave you to your rest.”

She gaped after him for a moment, watching as he began to retreat across the great hall towards the corridor that led to the guest quarters. Snapping into motion, she scrambled up from the table and followed him, thankfully catching up to him before he’d taken more than a few steps. “Mac, wait –” she reached out, her hand grasping his elbow just above one of the whirling loops of blue that encircled his arm. He stilled, but didn’t turn to face her, which was probably just as well. She was positively reeling from the flash of sparking heat that had traveled up her arm like lightning the second she’d touched him. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly before speaking, proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “Are ye angry wi’me?”

He huffed in disbelief. “Is that what ye think?” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at her before turning to face her fully, her hand sliding down to his wrist with the motion of his body. He found her eyes with his once again and the intensity in his gaze almost stopped her breath. He shook his head once, dismissively, before continuing. “I’m angry wi’myself, milady.”

“Why?” she asked him, her voice taking on a slightly breathless quality as he stepped closer to her and she tilted her head up so that she could keep her eyes on his.

He chuckled briefly, but it was a bitter sound. Shaking his head, he brought his free hand up to tuck an errant lock of her hair behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have plenty of reasons.”

She swallowed hard, stepping close enough to him that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. The hand not looped around his wrist rose tentatively to rest on the folds of his plaid where they crossed over his bare chest. “Such as?” she asked, hardly aware of what she was saying any longer, only aware of the magnetic current of feeling that was pulling them ever more tightly towards each other.

“Not talkin’ ye out of goin’ off alone fer one,” he murmured, turning his wrist so that their hands slipped together and intertwining their fingers.

“It was my plan,” she breathed, “I had t’be the one t’carry it out.”

“Aye, milady, I know I couldna have talked ye out of it,” the hand she wasn’t holding reached out and circled her waist, pulling her slowly into him until they were pressed lightly together. “But I should’ve pushed harder t’go with ye.”

She shook her head, even as her fingers clutched convulsively at the plaid beneath them. “Then we both would’ve been stuck in another realm,” she murmured, determined to argue – though it was more out of habit than anything else at this point. She couldn’t deny, to herself at least, that her exile might have been a  _bit_  more bearable if she’d had company.  _His company in particular, eh?_  she asked herself, but pulled herself out of her thoughts when she realized he was speaking again.

“Aye, but then ye wouldn’t have been alone,” he said softly. “And besides, that’s only one reason. I’m angry that I couldna find a way t’bring ye home,” he muttered.

She dropped the hand she’d been holding, sliding her arm around his waist instead as his other arm encircled her. “Ye tried your best,” she replied. “Ye all did, I know it. It’s not yer fault, Mac. And I made it back home, that’s the important thing.”

He nodded. “That’s true, but there’s still one thing I’m angry with myself for,” he said, dipping his head down as he spoke until she could feel the warm puffs of his exhalations skim across her face.

“Oh?” the hand that had been gripping his plaid stole up to his shoulder and threaded through the long locks at the nape of his neck. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, as if she spoke louder she’d break whatever spell they seemed to be under. “What’s that?”

His reply, when it came, was similarly soft. “Not doin’ this months ago,” he said, before ducking down further to close the space between them and catching her lips in a soft kiss. The instant their mouths connected, their arms pulled each other closer until there was absolutely no space left between them, and the kiss quickly went from soft and slow to something frantic and needy.

 _Fire_ , she thought wildly,  _it feels like I’m on fire_. And then she couldn’t think at all, totally lost to the way the kiss deepened, her nose nudging Mac’s cheek as her mouth opened under his and their tongues tangled together. She dimly realized that both of her hands were now woven into his hair and his roamed her back, pulling her impossibly closer as he trapped her bottom lip between both of his, sucking on it lightly before releasing it with a gentle nip. Someone whimpered faintly – Merida thought it might have been her – and they were both panting harshly by the time they pulled back a few moments later.

They stood there, in the middle of the great hall, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, and no doubt looking completely disheveled. As she came back to herself, Merida realized they were only a few steps away from her throne where anyone stumbling through the castle could happen upon them – it wasn’t  _that_  late in the evening and no doubt several servants would still be awake and going about their nightly tasks – but she didn’t care a whit. She finally felt like she was truly  _home_  – in more than one sense of the word.

Glancing up at Mac, she couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “Aye, I’m a bit angry at ye for waitin’ on that as well.” She grinned mischievously up at him. “Think of all the time we lost.”

Instead of smiling back at her, his expression sobered. He pushed that stubborn lock of hair behind her ear yet again, refusing to concede that it just would  _not_  be tamed. “I  _am_  thinkin’ o’that, Mer,” he murmured, and her heart warmed at the informal use of her name rather than her title or “milady.” She didn’t think he even realized that he did that from time to time, but she secretly treasured each instance. “But no more, aye?” he asked, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features, as though he thought she still might deny the connection that had been growing between them since her coronation and that was especially evident now.

In answer, she simply tightened her arms where they lay around his neck, pushed up on her tiptoes, and whispered her agreement against his lips before kissing him again. “Aye, no more.”


End file.
